


The Lucky Ones

by Yognautical (KiiKitsune)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Abuse, Evil!Xephos, Gen, Yoglabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiiKitsune/pseuds/Yognautical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one leaves Yoglabs the same person they were when they came in. If they leave at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lucky Ones

**Author's Note:**

> This works with the headcanon from my other fic, Unreliable Narrators, wherein 'Lalnable Hector' is just a lie Xephos spread around to keep Lalna under his thumb.
> 
> Inspired largely by http://cerebrobullet.tumblr.com/post/75753341344/heres-a-collection-of-some-of-my-yoglabs

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Lalna batted away at the leaves crowding in on them. It was not a good time to go traipsing around in the jungle. Too dark. Too wet from the evening rain. In fact, there was never a good time to go traipsing around in the jungle. Traipsing was not an activity he enjoyed, as a general rule. “Let’s just go back.”

“This isn’t something that can wait,” Xephos hissed at him, “Or have you forgotten why we’re out here already?”

Gingerly stepping over a clump of twisted vines Lalna said, “I don’t see why we can’t just order some testificates to do this.”

Xephos’ narrowed gaze turned on him; the pale blue light leaking from his iris’ brilliant against Lalna’s own dim flashlight. “Subject JC was YOUR responsibility. This was supposed to be top secret, and it’s YOUR fault we have a breach. So YOU. Are going. To fix it.”

Lalna held his hands up in surrender. They continued on.

\--

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a real soldier before.” Lalna smiled, tilting the man’s head up by his chin. He had a baby face; chubby cheeked despite his slender build, grease paint smeared around his eyes like a child that had gotten into mommy’s makeup. He couldn’t have had much experience in the field. Lalna imagined the boy would probably look terribly scared right then, if it wasn’t for the cocktail of drugs in his system. As it was, the soldier looked rather loopy. 

“Xephos says you government guns attack all the time, but they never make it as far down as the labs. Not alive, at least.” Lalna got to work unfastening the catches on the soldier’s bulletproof vest. “I’m surprised the Clean-O bots didn’t just straight up annihilate you like the rest of your squad. Did you hide?”

The soldier’s head lolled back and he let out what Lalna decided was probably an offended gurgle. 

“No? Maybe you just didn’t register as enough of a threat then.” Lalna chuckled, more to himself than anything, and removed the vest. He unzipped the jacket underneath, revealing an undershirt and the dog tags he’d been looking for.

He lifted the tags off, examining the little pieces of metal. “John, hey? S’a bit of a boring name. Not that you’ll need it here anyways, I suppose.”

He dropped the tags down the garbage chute. 

\--

The night grew colder as they ventured on. Lalna licked his chapped lips, biting down on his tongue to stop from shuddering when the chill made the spit turn icy. He had old memories of the warmth of proper torchlight, stolen from the original Lalna. It was primitive technology, but he still longed for it to replace the heatless, Yoglabs standard flashlight he held. 

Xephos stopped suddenly, thrusting an arm out in front of Lalna’s chest to halt him as well. Lalna flicked off his flashlight. Xephos’ eyes may have been brighter up close, but the light didn’t travel nearly as far. 

The taller man pointed out towards a break in the trees. Lalna squinted but saw nothing. Tugging on the collar of Lalna’s coat, Xephos started creeping forward. 

Coming closer to the break in the trees, Lalna began to hear the sound of a metal hitting rock. It came in staccato beats, some louder than others. As they drew in upon the source of the sound, the occasional grunt was added to the mix. 

Peaking past the trees, they saw their mark. He was some thirty feet down, sitting on a small, rocky beach. The water rushed along a few feet to his left and the steep hill upon which the two scientists were standing was to his right. The morning was beginning to break; a faint, pinkish light spilling through the canopy and lending a rosy hue to the black and white fur of the creature. He had one paw laid out on a flat stone. The other held a jagged looking rock. He hammered away at the broken length of chain extending from the cuff attached to his prone arm. 

Xephos slipped something into Lalna’s hand. The blond raised it up to look at it in the light.

“This… isn’t a net launcher.”

“This isn’t a live capture mission.”

\--

The room was warm. It had a normal bed, and a normal table, and even a normal fake potted plant. Not at all what he’d expect a prison cell to look like. He’d tried the door three times, but the results were always the same. Locked.

He had vague memories of the raid, and everything going wrong, but mostly he just felt like he’d been steamrolled and had his head dunked in maple syrup. 

He paced.

When the door finally opened, it was to the strange blond man he had even vaguer memories of. He backed away cautiously, eyeing up the man. He could probably take him in a fight; the guy had about a hundred pounds on him, but he was also fairly short and most of his weight clearly wasn’t muscle. 

“Hey there Subject JC,” the man waved a clipboard at him, “How’re you feeling? Those drugs wear off yet?”

“My name’s Jo--”

“Not here, it’s not. I’m just going to call you JC, for short.” He scribbled something down on the clipboard.

“Wait, what are you writing?”

“Gotta make notes about your responsiveness. You were pretty out of it for a good long time.”

“How… How long?”

“Two days, give or take.”

JC sat down heavily on the very normal bed and pressed a hand over his eyes. When he slid it up to his forehead, the very normal room was still there. So was the very not normal man.

“Feeling nauseous? Light headed? The drugs might not be completely out of your system yet.”

“I, no- I- where am I? Is this- is this Yoglabs?”

“Spot on. Welcome to Sublevel-8: Genetic testing. I’m Dr. Coffee. Though no one calls me that. Not since my licence was revoked, at least. So you can call me Lalna, if you prefer.”

“Oh God.”

“Relax, we’re gonna be great friends! …Ah, geez, you look like you’re about to be sick. Aim for the flowerpot.”

\--

“He could still be useful,” Lalna insisted, trying to hand the gun back.

Xephos didn’t lift a finger to take it. “We’ve gotten what we needed from him. We’ll try the process again on a new subject and compare the results.”

“We could analyse him further. What if he changes back? The effects might only be temporary.”

“And they might reverse post mortem. We won’t know until you put him down.”

“Monitoring him further--”

“It’s just another experiment, Lalna. Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental.”

Lalna shot a look down at the creature. Then he did a double take. “He’s gone.”

Xephos cursed, head whipping left and right to look down the river bank. Nothing. “He must have heard us and crossed the river.”

Xephos snatched the gun back from him and shoved him forwards. “Get going before I really push you.”

“Okay okay!” Lalna fumbled around onto all fours, trying to navigate his way down the gravel and bush-ridden slope without tumbling the rest of the way. Xephos followed along just above him, kicking rocks down into Lalna’s face on occasion. 

They made it to the bottom and hurried across the shallow river. Xephos’ determination seemed to have been doubled. He whacked his way through the underbrush with a new resolve. 

“Jesus, slow down!” Lalna panted, lagging behind.

“You, keep up!” 

“I’m not an ex-adventurer, like some people,” Lalna scowled, “I do science. Not running.”

“Well, it’s what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m not fit enough for this.” The blond groaned, hopping over a fallen log and nearly falling on a shrub in the process. Xephos caught him by the arm and pulled him along even faster.

\--

“That can’t be healthy.”

“Neither are cheeseburgers, but I still get those made special for you.” Lalna grinned toothily, swabbing off the skin in the crook of his own elbow. 

“You owe me, like, ten cheeseburgers after this.” JC said, watching warily as Lalna flicked the syringe twice.

“You’re acting like I’m about to inject YOU with the unstable chemical composition here.”

“You did that this morning.”

“Give me some credit. I only inject you with stable ones.”

JC was tempted to roll his eyes, but that would have meant looking away from the glowing purple fluid in the syringe. Lalna handed him the syringe and held out his arm.

Frowning, JC lined the needle up with Lalna’s vein. He hesitated. “Is this really a good idea? I mean, what if it… explodes or something?”

“Then a new clone gets popped out of the assembly line,” Lalna shrugged, “Now get on with it.”

JC exhaled through his nose and pushed the needle in. “Last chance to say n--”

The lab’s automatic door swooshed open, drawing both their attention. A positively livid looking Xephos swept into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- wha- nothing!” JC jumped back, unintentionally yanking the needle out of Lalna’s arm. Lalna winced and slapped a hand down over the wound.

Xephos snatched the syringe from JC and rounded on Lalna, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice one of Enderborn’s DNA samples was missing? What’d you even think you could do with it? Give yourself his powers? Or maybe this is just about your sick little obsession with him.”

“I’d hardly call scientific curiosity ‘obsession’.”

Xephos snarled at him, shoving him backwards. He crashed into one of the metal equipment tables, sending implements careening to the tile floor. 

“And what’s this?” Xephos gestured back at JC, who flinched away, “He’s a test subject! Not a lab assistant!”

Lalna righted himself, smoothing out his lab coat. He said nothing.

“He shouldn’t even be out of his cell, let alone getting chummy with you.”

“Should I be in isolation? Are you going to stick me in the glass cage again?” Lalna stepped into Xephos’ space, lip curling.

Without so much as a word of warning, Xephos stabbed the syringe into the side of Lalna neck and depressed the plunger. The blonde’s eyes went wide and he stumbled back, clutching at his neck. 

“You want to know what happens when a normal creature gets Ender DNA? We already tested it. It isn’t pretty.” Xephos said, standing straight and watching impassively as Lalna crumpled before him. 

JC let out a yelp, quickly covering his mouth. Xephos turned on him anyways, giving him a quick, assessing look. Then he strode out of the lab, calling for the guards on the way out. JC hurried over to Lalna, turning him onto his side. Bulging, purple veins were crawling across Lalna’s skin at an alarming rate. His irises were glowing and JC watched as a viscous black goo oozed out of his tear ducts. 

Two testificates entered the room, dressed in riot gear. They hauled JC up to his feet and dragged him towards the door, but not before he saw Lalna’s mouth drop open in a silent scream, the skin of his cheeks tearing like stretched nylon as his jaw kept opening. Wider and wider. 

The door swished shut, and when JC saw Lalna again two weeks of solitary confinement and one cloning process later, the man was smiling so broadly that JC feared it might split his cheeks all over again.

“So I guess I owe you a few burgers.”

\--

“There he is,” Xephos whispered, smirking. He raised the gun, squinting slightly as he aimed.

“Where?” Lalna said, too loudly. He hid his satisfaction as the creature perked up and bolted to the left. 

Xephos cursed and kicked the jungle bric-a-brac. He didn’t even bother to berate Lalna. He just took off after his prey once again.

\--

The bathroom door opened and closed quietly. JC didn’t move from his place at the sink, though his reflection gave away his eyes drifting up to glance at the man behind him.

Lalna leaned against the stall divider. “You know that’s two-way glass, right?”

JC looked back at himself, running his newly thick fingers over the soft, velveteen fur on his cheek. “Doesn’t matter. I’m always being watched anyways.”

“At least we have the courtesy to tell you about it.”

JC sighed and turned around to look at Lalna properly. “…What’s happening to me?”

“Yoglabs is happening to you. Just like it happens to everyone else.”

“Everyone else isn’t growing ears on the top of their head.”

Lalna’s teeth flashed; stained with coffee and a bit crooked. “Consider yourself lucky.”

\--

They chased him to a strange little outcropping. A haphazardly built bridge extended out over a lake. At the end of the bridge was a cube of random materials, decorated with signs that none of them bothered to read.

JC turned finally, his eyes wild with fear. He was shaking.

Xephos broke through the underbrush, gun already trained on him. “End of the line.”

\--

Panda bears can’t cry. They don’t have tear ducts like humans do. Apparently, Lalna noted, neither did hybrids. 

JC was raging on the other side of the glass, but his brute strength wasn’t enough to break the advanced alloy of his cuffs. Terrible, wailing sounds ripped from his beastly throat, echoing in the small observation room.

Xephos laid a hand on Lalna’s shoulder. Long, spidery fingers drummed mindlessly against Lalna’s clavicle. His words came out as a dry hiss against the shell of Lalna’s ear. 

“You don’t have friends, Lalna. Not here.”

\--

Lalna tripped behind Xephos just as the trigger was pulled. They bump together and the shot went wide. 

It was still a headshot.

JC dropped unceremoniously; tumbling off the precarious bridge and into the lake below. 

Xephos pivoted sharply, pistol whipping Lalna without missing a beat. He caught Lalna by the coat before the man had a chance to properly reel back. “You’re lucky I didn’t miss.”

His cheekbone was probably shattered. He’d bitten his tongue too. Blood hit Xephos’ face when he spat. It got caught in Xephos’ neatly trimmed beard.

\--

“Take this key card. It’ll work for the right wing elevator. Take it to Sublevel-4. That’s rocket development. They have a shaft that goes right outside. You’ll have to find some way up, but you’ll come out in a jungle.”

JC fumbled with the card. It looked comically small in his paws. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you when we met, yeah? We were gonna be great friends.”

\--

The water made a valiant attempt at consuming him. He was tempted to let it.

Still, he clawed his way free before passing out with it still licking at his legs. When he next woke it was to frantic, heavily accented babbling. 

“Ugh,” he said, because there was nothing else to say. 

He blinked and everything burned. He cried out. There was more babbling. Then hands on him. He was drawn upwards, and things come into focus. There was a weedy little man looming over him with thick framed glasses pressed tight against his face. They made is eyes look bigger and buggier than perhaps they really were. 

“—oh JESUS that looks bad. It went straight through your eye! How are you alive? Motherfu--”

He stopped trying to listen after that, more content to let his body go into shock.

Let the strange Scottish man decide what to do with him. He’d run far enough.


End file.
